


So a Werewolf, a Vampire, and a Space Alien Troll Walk into a Bar…

by godtiermeme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Amazing, Comedy, Dave's a vampire, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, John's a werewolf, Karkat's just Karkat, Roommates, Supernatural Elements, The Unholy Triad, everyone is happy, oh my god did i type that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: "This joke sucks," says one.
"I want a fucking refund," says another.
"Shove my head in a toilet and flush so that I fuckin drown," says the third.

  OR…

Everyone is happy, no one dies, things are cool, and three supernatural beings try to live a semi-normal life in their two-bed-one-bath home in between downtown and suburban Skaia.





	1. Just an Average Space Alien

**Author's Note:**

> you can ignore the font with "ignore author style" up at the top. i just like monospace fonts. as usual, comments and feedback are appreciated. i'll try to update as much as possible between running an etsy store and being in college and trying to fake that i'm a responsible adult.
> 
> trolls have a life cycle just like humans in this story, btw.

**Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you're an alien.** From space. You're a space alien. A foreign entity dropped unceremoniously onto this blue and green planetary mass known as Earth. For the past few years, you've inhabited a small sector of this planet known as Skaia. More specifically, it's been for the past decade or so, and you're still not entirely sure how you feel about it. On one hand, you're perfectly fine with your lifestyle. You have two semi-decent roommates, and you're not exactly dying. In fact, you're most definitely  _not_ dying. You're living it up, so to speak. Sure, you're often subjected to that disgusting slop known as alcohol, but it's only on rare occasions that you end up having to drink it. Most of the time, you're content to just sit back and relax.

Not right now, though. Not now, you won't! Ha! Fuck you for thinking that you could  _ever_ possibly relax in a public space with your two dipshit roommates. Sure, you're a space alien, but you know basic rules of decency. You're not a fucking social alien. You're just grey and have horns and happen to be from space.

"Yeah, man, I'm fuckin' immortal." Even a good five yards away from him, you can hear Dave bragging to two awestruck teenage girls. Despite appearances, it's not a creepy move. He's not interested in them in the least; everything is for shits and giggles. The sloppy brown excrement which drips near-constantly from his gaping feed-hole is but a mere facet of what is Dave goddamned Strider. Likewise, the annoying purr he adds to his words is a trademark sign that he's fucking around. "I can turn into a bat for you two if you'd like."

You, in response to this, clear your throat. "You can't turn into a bat, you ass-sniffing bum."

A huff of frustration. After smoothing back some of his golden blond hair, Dave recovers his usual cool. "I can tell you all about history."

"You were bitten in 1996, Strider." You take a sip of your coffee.

Dave groans as the girls walk off, obviously disinterested. "Way to ruin my fuckin' life, man." He sulks, stomps over to you, and sits down with his arms folded tightly across his chest. If anything, he looks like some whiny human offspring in its earliest stages of development. He even has the pouting lip to prove it. "You're not my mom. You don't  _own_ me." He emphasizes the word by aggressively shoving his shades back into place. "I'm telling Egbert about this."

"John doesn't give three flying fucks about your asinine bullshit, Dave, and you know it." You shrug and return to browsing through the recent news on your tablet. "Hmph." You clear your throat before continuing, reading aloud, "The Mayor has declared tomorrow national supernatural awareness day. You read the memo wrong."

"No, I read it right. It's tomorrow in Asia."

 _"We're not in goddamned Asia."_ You breathe an exasperated sigh and run your fingers through your wiry black hair. "Your think pan. I bet if we broke open your bony head shell, we'd find a think pan that looked extraordinarily like the gum on the underside of the subway seats."

"Nah," Dave counters, smirking, "I'm more like the gum on the bottom of the  _bus_ seats. The subways are all dark and damp, and I don't do that shit."

"You don't 'do' any shit." Air quotes. Everyone fucking loves air quotes. "Why are you even  _here,_ you puffed-up dickbag?"

As if mightily offended by your comment, Dave gasps, though his neutral expression doesn't change. Even as he grabs his chest, as if mortally wounded, his lips form the same straight line as before. "You asked me out on a  _date_ , dammit."

"And, clearly, that was a mistake." You roll your eyes. Nonetheless, you offer a small smirk. For all you're saying about the blond jerk across the table from you, you can't help but feel—at the very least—mildly fond of him. Not that you'd let onto that. He'd rip you a new one if his smell receptors so much as picked up on a hint of that stench. "I should've invited John."

"In case you've forgotten in the past ten fuckin' minutes, John was kicked out of Starbucks for howling at a picture of the moon." The lackluster drama of the situation is in no way improved by Dave loudly biting a shitty west cracker in half at the end of this statement.

And you quickly act in John's defense. "He can't help that. It's a human-furbeast thing."

"He was totally joking, and you fuckin' know it." Here, Dave folds his arms across his chest in the most obnoxiously triumphant way possible.

And you, with a grunt of indignation, are forced to admit your shortcoming. "Fine. Whatever, Strider. You can have your shallow victory. Enjoy your fucking weird rhythmic flailing routines."

Dave huffs haughtily. "Suck on that, Nubs McCursealot." With that much said, he takes a final sip of his coffee. He crumples the paper cup in his fist and offers you a wry smile. "I'm done. You?"

As your brief rivalry session is now over, you return to acting semi-cordially. "I fucking hate coffee, and you know it."

"Great, so we can go tag team and kick John's ass in Smackdown VA Raw 2010."


	2. And so the lion fell in love with himself

**Your name is Dave Strider, and you'll be damned if you're not the sickest, coolest, most ass-kickingly amazing vampire there ever was.** How could you  _not_ be? You're one fucking rad dude. Even straight men swoon over you. " _Oh_ Dave!" they'll say when you walk past them, their hands clasped in boyish delight, "How  _do_ you get your hair to be so brilliant?" Now, you're not answering that question. That's a patented Strider secret. It's all on the DL. No space to talk there. But you've got plenty of wiggle room when it comes to giving out details about your personal life.

For the past few years, you've lived with two complete blunderbusses. One's an alien. One's a werewolf. Respectively, they're Karkat Vantas and John Egbert. Now, you'd think that living with two not-entirely-human beings would be inconvenient. In fact, it is. But not all that often. It's only _really_ inconvenient when you have to deal with John's time of the month. Apparently, neighbors don't appreciate his tendency to sharpen his claws with the brick wall between your apartment and theirs. Otherwise, the only major issue is the whole lost in translation principle between Karkat and, well, pretty much anyone. Sure, he's been on Earth for a while, but he still has a lot to learn.

Now, where we're we? Oh! Yeah!

As it stands, John isn't due for another werewolf episode for another few weeks. In fact, right now it's a new moon. Unfortunately, it's long since been made apparent to you that even regular moons such as this can cause some… unpleasant lupine side effects. For instance, on the occasions of a new moon, John often has an overwhelming urge to spend the entire night awake and, unless otherwise properly occupied, annoying the living hell out of the neighbors.

For this reason, you find yourself playing goddamned go fish—the worse card game to ever be invented—in the kitchen. It's 1:30 AM, and you're not at all tired. Why would you be? You just woke up from a two week long nap about a month ago; besides, vampires don't really need that much sleep, anyhow.

"Have any threes?" John inquires.

You shake your head.

The attention shifts to Karkat, who merely jabs a black-nailed finger at the splayed out jumble of cards in the middle of the dining room table. "Search for some fucking sea-dwellers."

"You mean fish?" John snickers. (You're honestly amazed at how fucking perky he can be. It's 1:30 AM. What the actual fuck keeps this fucker going?) He pokes around in this pile for a while before pulling forth a singular card. After letting some sort of presumably imaginary tension build up, he breathes a disappointed sigh. "Your turn, Dave."

Now, you're not going to be the one who points out that the moon-crazed werewolf isn't playing the game right. In fact, you a perfectly content with just keeping your mouth shut. "John." When his eyes dart to you, you continue. "Have any aces?"

"Nope."

"This game is fucking awful. Humans can be some of the dullest life forms to have the displeasure of existing in this piss-puddle of s universe." Clearly, Karkat is in a partying mood. "This is fucking awful. Kill me.  _Fucking kill me_. Now." He flicks the cards from between his fingers and onto the table. This reveals his hand, which just so happens to include three fours.

"Well, fuck!" John exclaims. "You had them all along!"

"Amazing deduction, Egbert," Karkat counters.

You, content for now with the fact that you're winning this game no matter what, begin flicking your cards across the room. One happens to hit the pantry door with a satisfying smack; it embeds itself in the wood.

Ah.

The joys of roommates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, really, comments are super appreciated. so are suggestions. and correcting my typos, because i don't check this shit at all.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god you didn't die reading this. congrats.


End file.
